Naomi was appalled at how much wasn’t getting done lately, and how much no one wanted to get anything done since school started. The 5th years were in an automatic fit of endless drama, Slytherins wouldn’t shut up about Schalengwhat, Callum was leading a revolution against all things pitiable and stupid, there was a new astronomy professor who pulled a 180 on the astronomy curriculum,  teaching them much of anything about magic—hell—Naomi couldn’t even bother to remember anything else that had happened since the school year started because it was depressing or ridiculous. It was a waste of time to even dwell on it. She just needed to find someplace to get work done that wasn’t going to break out into a downpour of drama.

The only person she could think of who wouldn’t be caught up in this was a particular Ravenclaw, whom she was told she would find somewhere in the library, and so she dumped some homework and books in her bag and trudged across the school in some comfy flats and a hooded dress-like coat—it was still too cold to Naomi to walk around the school in anything less than that and her tights.

Once she entered the library she wound her way through the labrynth of shelves stacked with books, until she slunk out into open red carpeted studying area withthe mess of ruffled and untamed hair that was Blake Knight, sitting at a table and huddled over something. If it wasn’t a book he was studying for class then Naomi hoped it would take a backseat to what she wanted or the fact they needed to study because they had class on Monday—or something.

The dark-skinned Slytherin silently slinked into the chair next to Blake and set her bag down beside her, simultaneously slipping out her Arithmancy book first and sliding it onto the table, “You need t’do ‘dis stuff, Blake?” she sang softly, with a soft and questionable expression. “I ‘aven’t gotten to eet yet, been tryin’ to figure what th’ new professor’s about,” she opened the book and as she propped her elbow up on the table and laid her head in her hand. Once she turned to what they were studying she eyed Blake, trying to figure out if he’d go along with her, “Nuh-Yah-Mabey?”she ran together with a slight raise of her eyebrows.

Even if he said no, it wasn’t a very good week for her, so she’d probably just sit there and absent-mindedly ask his opinion on things and con him into studying with her anyway, the closest thing she got to begging.

The new term had arrived and had brought with it some interesting developments for the third year Ravenclaw. Blake had tried to keep a low profile since returning to school, not wanting to bring attention to himself after what had happened on his birthday and hoping to avoid his family even more than before.

That was made quite difficult given that most of his family also attended school at Hogwart's. And, even though they all resided in the house of snakes and Blake was the only one in Ravenclaw, he still had to see them every day. Lately, some of his third year classes were being held with the fifth years, so that meant he had to see all three of his brothers at once. They watched him like hawks, waiting for any bit of information to use for razzing.

Thus, Blake had taken up residence in one of two places that he could hope to never find his family members spending much time--in the Ravenclaw Tower or in the school's library. On this particular day, he was in the latter, comforted by the rows and rows of books and feeling protected from everyone else.

When he heard some movement signaling the arrival of someone else, Blake was prepared to look up and see someone from his own house, or even Ayla. But instead, he saw the Slytherin colors and the accompanying countenance of Naomi Foley, probably one of the only members of her house that he would go out of his way to spend time with, particularly because they shared an affinity for academics.

Blake offered her a quiet smile and shuffled his books together so as to make room on the table for her things. Even in the quiet atmosphere of the library, Blake found himself mesmerized by the lilting quality of Naomi's words, signaling one of the distinct differences between the two. But it wasn't a jarring difference--at least not to Blake. He enjoyed being around people who were different from him. It was one quality that did not permeate into the mindset of the other members of his family. The Knights tended to prefer surrounding themselves with other people who were just like them--rich, pure, and elite.

Blake looked a little sheepish when she spoke of the work they were to be doing. "Yeah, I  haven't gotten to it yet," he admitted. He had a book in his hand, but with a cheeky grin, he set it down on the table and lifted something from the opened pages. It was a muggle comic book that one of his housemates had given him to read. Blake had been tearing through the boy's collection at a voracious speed, often in lieu of his studies.

Carefully setting the glossy pages aside, Blake told her, "I wasn't getting much work done on my own. We can work on the homework together." After a beat, he asked, "And which professor are you talking about? Trishna?" Or Vallaincourt?"

As Blake answered Naomi, she tilted her brows unevenly at Blake as a small grin peeked at her lips, content and amused with the answer she got. Once Blake started putting the book away she reached down and pulled out a piece of parchment for both of them, and then caught a colorful glance of the glossy pages Blake had been reading—a magazine? No, there were too many pictures for that, and the art style was something that was more reminiscent of a muggle cartoon or comic. She didn’t really think much of the things, then again, she did make herself watch them on the television or read about them, but she never took a strong interest in them, preferring playing Quidditch or fishing on her mother’s crocodile than staying idle, still, and absent-minded for too long.  Actually, Naomi really didn’t approve of staying still for anything other than school-work.

She slid a parchment over to Blake and then remembered their new potions teacher as well, “Talkin’ ‘bout Trishna, not Valliancourt.” She said with a sticky disdain, “She’s a bit different, but practic’el—thorough. She might be a bit pee-ky like Storm though.” Naomi honestly didn’t know, but there’s a lot she could assume about the teacher, “An’ she’ll prob’ly be hard, but at least she’s still teachin’ us about magic.”

She then pressed her lips together disdainfully, “But Trishna doesn’t seem to ‘ave a high opinion on how wizards do science, and so he’s comin’ at us with muggle stuff,” she dropped her arm from supporting her children and rested it on the table, “What’ll we use it fer?” she finished off with the picky attitude of a cat. It didn’t make any logical sense to Naomi why wizards should do astronomy the muggle way when they’d been doing just fine doing it the wizard way. They’ve done things their own ways for years what good it will do to suddenly try and use a type of science so far and different from their own?

She then referred to the Arithmancy book, and the page detailing the topic their assignment was about, which she had had on her mind for a long time, and had an idea of what she wanted to write about. However she almost couldn’t believe Blake was being lazy and avoiding it, then again, with the recent drama at school she couldn’t blame him. “Here we got an essay-type t’ing to write,” then she peered bemusedly at Blake, “you really ‘aven’t even given eet a t’ought yet?”

Blake sheepishly smiled when Naomi caught sight of his diversion from studying. His secret was out. This was why he was so distracted of late. This was his form of muggle studies, thanks in large part to his family's prejudice. Setting the comic aside, he muttered, "Don't tell Callum you saw me reading that, kay?"

He readily accepted the parchment that his friend pushed in his direction and he reached down into his bag for his trusty quill. He took that time to listen to Naomi's critical assessment of the potions mistress, Valliancourt, and then, more extensively, Trishna, the new Astronomy Professor.

"Hmm...." he murmured absently, taking in each point that she made, or each objection to his pedagogy, rather. Blake was less adverse to it, as he never minded learning about something new. He also knew, from first hand experience living with the high and mightly mindset of his family, that doing things the way wizards always did them wasn't always the be all, end all.

But Blake wasn't sure expressing as such now was going to make much of a difference. So, he just shrugged his shoulders. Then he pulled the Arithmancy book closer to himself, so that it was in between them both and they could look at the pertinent chapter together. The third years had been working on the core concepts of Arithmancy before break and upon their return, Professor Levartian had them working on their Life Path numbers. And as Naomi kindly reminded him, they were supposed to be writing an essay on the information they found regarding that topic.

"I really haven't given it a thought," Blake admitted. Then he jokingly tacked on, "Yet. I was getting around to it....I swear." The Ravenclaw made a big show of reading from the textbook and then scribbling a few notes on the parchment. Then he peeked up after a few lines and gave her a look that demanded, What? Out loud, he said, "Besides, this is easy stuff. I could do this all day, every day, no problem..."

Naomi let out a soft mock laugh, as if she were amused he’d even get such a thought, “Eet’s not mine to talk ‘bout.” She hardly ever talked to Callum anyways, he wasn’t her brother, and he was a 5th year, why should she care?

And then he just dove into the work, enthusiastically—ridiculously, and obviously was being a procrastinator about it. The dark Slytherin just propped up a smile and held back a laugh as she looked on at Blake reading, until he looked up at her defensively, and claimed he was getting around to it, “Liar,” she drawled, “Ye wouldn’t ‘ave touched eet unless ‘di t’ing was starin’ you in th’ face.”

Naomi already knew her number, her problem was writing about it, and herself, the latter of which she hardly bothers to think about unless it was necessary, “I got six,” she said picking through to the back of the book with numbers and their meanings, without dropping the pages onto the original assignment page, and just held them up instead, “Represents perfect balance,” she began with a didactic twist, regurgitating what they remembered last class until she got to the definitions page, “harmony in all parts of life, and the most productive of all numbers—“ she looked up and gave Blake a disappointedly sad and fake glance, “I dun t’ink ‘dis is your number.”

She smiled and let her eyes drop back down to the book, “All I got was some fancy introduction, relatin’ eet to th’ present and me-self, ‘den where I want to be and wot is says I’m gwon to turn out to be—which is a bit deep for me,” Naomi admitted looking up at Blake with pursed lips.

O course, as Naomi thought about it, if she didn’t have balance in her life the probably be 10 different every five or ten minutes with some ridiculous and newly prominent facial feature every hour. She smiled it off to herself and then curiously murmured, “Which number’s fi you?”

---

Sources: Life Path Number , Source Used in 5th year Class, Other Source from Class

Even though he didn't say as much, when she told him that she wasn't going to rat him out to Callum, he was relieved. Part of him knew that already. Naomi wasn't a snitch. And even though she was pureblood, it didn't mean she necessarily subscribed to the same beliefs and values that his brother and the rest of his family did. He felt a certain amount of safety with the Slytherin, which was unusual. Blake rarely associated with anyone from that house unless he was assigned to.

He decided to turn back to the books before him. "Tis true," Blake answered simply at her disbelief about his intentions to study. But the Ravenclaw playfully made a show of avoiding her eyes. He turned the page in the textbook and feigned like he was reading a passage intently. He even reached up to lightly stroke his chin, as if in deep thought. "I believe I am a three," he informed her casually. And then, with barely a tick passing and nary a glance at the back of the book, he dully recited, "Apparently, the truly gifted three possesses the most exceptional innovative skills."

He turned to her and boasted, "Which, I'm pretty sure,simply means I'm awesome in every way possible." Blake paused and then rebuffed her comment about not being productive. "I'm productive when I need to be. And clearly being a three says I don't need to be all the time. I can make up for it with my sparkling personality. And my enigmatic charm."

He seemed to really believe that for a moment before he was unable to seriously hold her gaze without snickering. "Okay, okay. I'll get serious. It shouldn't take me long to bang out a few paragraphs, right?"

As Blake picked up the pages away from her to peer at the his number in the back of the book, to sum himself up, Naomi gently pursed her lips apart and curled down a brow with a drop of her eyelids. Even before he finished she had started to shift her head towards him, raising her gaze at his as she with her other eyebrow climbing high on her forehead.

Of course she couldn’t choke back the scoffing laugh that tripped out of her throat at “my enigmatic charm,” and relieved when he started to snicker. Her mouth pulled into a relieved smiled and she sighed.

“Prob’ly.”  She shrugged a chastising look at him, parking her shoulder under her chin before glancing back at the book, “But should remember ‘dat you’re ‘sensitive,’ and ‘often attract demanding partners.’” Naomi batted the feather in Blake’s direction, eyes still on the book looking for something else to use against him, “Got two paragraphs ‘der. So beware of ones, fours, and eights—I t’ink.”

"Sensitive, huh? I hope that's not telling me that I'll be a pushover," Blake mused casually. His eyes continued skimming the text to see if anything else stood out to him. "I mean, I don't want to be like Callum and my other brothers, but I certainly don't want to be taken advantage of either." Blake sighed and sat back in his chair. "So I wonder who are the ones, fours and eights..."

his voice trailed off as he thought more of his brothers. It occurred to the Ravenclaw that he could use Arithmancy to gain insight on them if he wanted and maybe they fell into the categories of the people he should avoid. Maybe he could understand them more. But then, it could be useless too. Reaching up to scratch his forehead, he murmured, "Nay, do you think....well, I mean....would you say that in some ways, we are destined to never get away from our families?"

"I t'ink yer just clueless sometimes," A sly sideglance of a smile was Naomi's reply to who the one's, four's, and eight's were, before returning to scratching out the homework on the parchment. She honestly didn't know who the numbers were, but she'd like to know, just to have something else to pick at him with. She really wasn't even floating in the same teacup as most of the girls in her year, let alone knowledgeable of their life path numbers, or anyone else's Hogwarts.

Then the Slytherin twisted her puckered lips, ceased scratching on her parchment, and regarded Blake as if he were a puzzle. There were a number of things he might be referring to, considering his current list of complaints towards his family, but destined? She wasn't sure what that meant, but she tried to work her way into the question. 

Naomi also recalled Blake’s boggart from the beginning of the year, his father, “You can’t get away from yer own blood,” was her very literal response, and then creaked on, “...but I don’t t’ink it’s got anyt’ing to do wit’ destiny.”

Then she began winding in the dark, “I dunno where I’d be without brothers to hex all di’ time. Even when we were midway mutilated to Mungo’s, no one went nowhere or wanted to be anywhere else," she gave a meager shoulder shrug, “Family’s hard like ‘dat to get rid of.” It was as close as the witch would get to admitting she enjoyed being around her family.

“We got responsibilities to ‘dem, more than others," More than she would have liked, but Naomi did take pride in those responsibilities and carrying them out, "but shouldn’t take forever to do, right?” She shifted in her seat for a pause, “We’ll eventually have our own stuff to deal with. I suppose zat's what'' set us apart.”Naomi leaned her head on her hands and pushed her gaze to her tight and twisted text. She wasn't really sure if she provided the answer he wanted, or a ridiculously obvious one: Carry out your responsibilities and then get on with your life.

“I dunno what that is though.” She pecked at the paper with her pen as a jab tightened in her chest. Naomi didn’t recognize why, or what exactly made her so unsure of herself or what she was saying. She couldn’t quite grasp the uncertainty of the whole situation, and it was frustrating her.